The Hill

She would walk up to that same spot everyday. She would pack up a picnic basket and walk up the hill she knew all too well. At the very top of this steep hill she would be able to see the whole of her small town from one side and from the other the rolling countryside sliced like a ribbon by a worn dirt road that was occasionally visited by the traveling wagon of some doctor or local farmer. From time to time you would see the fancier automobiles the fashionable drove in by when taking a stay “for the air.”

Yes this young, working girl would take off her hair covering, whatever it may be and let the sun warm her golden locks as she looked out upon both scenes. At the very top of this hill was a large cherry tree which in the summers she would take its ripe fruit for her desert. In the winters she would look at the snow covered landscape and watch her own breath come in puffs against the frigid air. On her way up she often passed the occasional traveler or farmer or herder, and nod her head when they tipped their hats.

It was everyday she traveled to this spot. It took aboutt a half hour to walk all the way to the top from her home and she would normally stay for about an hour under the tree’s branches. The golden haired girl’s mistress was not at all pleased with this blatant waste of time but accepted it none the less since she would work twice as hard once she returned from her break. Besides, she always went at the same time, the time when all the fields were quiet with the mid-day slump and most people kept to their homes. This was part of her agreement in coming on as a working girl. Her mother requested it and her mistress agreed only after taking a considerable sum out of her average pay.

It was true; the maid's mistress found this kind of negotiation queer…but then again, the old woman herself was going a bit batty with age and found anything slightly peculiar to be a welcome change from the monotonous. Many times the old woman would try and persuade her to tell the reason why each day she made her solemn march up the hill, but each inquiry was met with a slight nod and a smile before she would return to her work. Some times the mistress would threaten to turn her out on the street if she did not produce an answer but the reply was all the same and the woman would give up for the day, not quite heartless enough to turn a young girl out to the bitterness that was the outside world. So everyday she marched. She marched to her spot and the old, decrepit woman would just sit and watch from her window. “What a peculiar girl…” she would say to herself and go back to her sewing.

In time the old mistress grew fond of her young working girl and even began to view her as somewhat of a niece or great-granddaughter. One day she took the young girl into her parlor and asked what her plans were for her future. The golden haired girl replied that she did not know which brought a smile to the old crone’s lips. She then asked what her view was of marriage and the girl just simply blushed and did not answer. The old mistress must have taken her silence as a quiet submission and clapped her hands.

“I have taken it upon myself to arrange a suitable match. Now, now don’t say anything, I wont take no for an answer!” The old woman smiled and the golden haired girl just looked at her feet.

“Your mother must be so happy that she had chosen me as your place of employment. Where else would you find a mistress who was willing to take her connections to find a husband for one of her servants? Now, I have a man in mind but I believe I will start my search for your future spouse tomorrow. What is it now you have to say to your kind, old master?”

The golden haired girl just sat in her seat looking at the floor.

“Oh you are a peculiar girl now aren’t you? This certainly will not help your matchmaking but I’m sure we can find someone who is willing to overlook that detail. Your beauty is more then enough to compensate for your lack of words but a thank you would be nice for all I am willing to do for you.”

The servant girl just looked up at the old woman before standing giving a quick curtsy.

“Thank you, your grace. I am quite grateful for your assistance, though I feel it a bit unnecessary for a poor girl like myself. But if you may excuse me, I need to take the wash off the line before it rains.”

And with that she was dismissed.

It did not take long for the old woman to come up with plenty a suitor looking for a young pretty wife. One was a man nearly twice her age who had taken a particular liking to her. He was a wealthy widow, prospering in the business of his late wife. He was also quite large and covered in what looked like fur on his face and hands. The young girl did not take such a liking to the hairy old man for he also smelled of last week’s trash.

When the old mistress saw that the hairy man had taken a liking to her maid she had resolved to invite him over for dinner a few times a week and for the first time the golden haired girl seemed to be part of the festivities rather then serving them. But what she also learned from this was that the man loved the drink. More then a few times he asked for his cup to be filled with the venom of the vines and drank till his heart was contented and his speech slurred. While in this state he would make brazen passes at the her from beneath the table and whisper shameless offers in her ear. So totally was the girl’s disdain for the man that she could hardly put it into words. But to her mistress she never made a sound, for fear of insulting her kind advices.

Still everyday the girl took her walk to the top of the hill and looked out into the scenery. It was the middle of spring and the sky was a magnificent shade of blue and the air crisp. One day before the golden haired girl was able to set off for her journey, the hairy man came once more to the house and asked for a moment alone with the young maid. The old woman eager to oblige left them alone in her own sitting room while another maid took her to her bedchamber.

The golden haired girl knew what the man wanted and before he could utter even one word of proposal she politely declined.

“Very soon I am to be taken home. I’m sorry but I can not hope to accept the offer I know you were prepared to give me. I am very grateful for the time you have spent with me but I am late in taking my afternoon walk.” And with that the golden haired girl set off once again for her destination.

Once she was out the door the hairy man made quite a scene. He thrashed his arms and swore and demanded the old woman be brought to him immediately. Eventually he was permitted upstairs and he let out the full fury of his anger out on the old crow.

“I have a deal for you sir, since I believe that you are very good for my little flower” said the woman from her chair at the window.

The hairy man perked up his ears as she talked. A deal? What sort of deal would a decrepit mistress hope to make?

“Find out why she goes to that hill each day and I will force her to marry you. In her contract she belongs to me almost as much as a slave belongs to a slave-owner. I will also double the dowry I have set aside for her that we originally agreed on.”

The hairy man’s smile was the equivalent of a hungry tiger.

“You have yourself a fine deal.” Said the man and kissed her hand before setting off after the golden haired girl.

The wind was high that afternoon and the hairy man wondered why anyone would want to go out in this type of weather. Up ahead he could see the girl already under the cherry tree. She was in fact quite beautiful but she seemed to be acting peculiar. All of a sudden she stood up and placed something in the grass by the cherry tree. Then she began to wave her arms about and shout up at the sky like some sort of madwoman. The closer the hairy man got the more he could hear what she was saying.

“I’m here my love! I’ve been waiting for you like I promised! I have felt so alone without you! Take me away my love, my love take me!”

Then, like a flash the hairy man looked to see a boy about the age of the girl. He embraced her and with that they were gone. The melody of the boy’s response was in the air, “I have come for you my love. I have come like I promised. You do not have to be alone, we can go home now.”

The hairy man was tempted to run in the opposite direction but curiosity had gotten the better of him. He cautiously walked up to the tree and grabbed the note. When it was securely in his hands he ran as fast as his thick legs could carry him back to the mistress’s house. He did not even wait for the maids to admit him into her bedchamber and bolted into the room. With faded breath he tried to stutter out the events that had just happened but the woman silenced him before he could finish.

“How foolish do you think I am?” she inquired and the man drew up a defeated look on his face at the sound of those words.

“Oh don’t be such an oaf! I saw it all from my window sir, or have you forgotten my bedchamber overlooks the hill?”

It was then that the hairy man remembered the note and saw that it was addressed to the old mistress. He handed her the letter and she proceeded to open it. The hairy man stood by her impatiently waiting for her to read the note out loud. But she never did. As her old eyes looked over the print a smile curled on to her face, so much so that a row of rotting teeth came into view.

Dear Ma’am,

I hope this letter finds you well. If you are reading this now it means that I have gone home. I know you were so interested in my walks each day and I am sorry but you will never be able to know the whole story, but I hope to enlighten you on at least part. The truth of the matter is that I am in love. I have been in love with a man for quite some time. My life has been dedicated to him, every step, every move, and every breath has been for him. And since you are reading my letter, I am with him once more. From the time I have spent with you, I believe that you would be able to understand the kind of emotion that would drive you to almost any length. He is this in me. I hope you understand as I believe you will. I think you may need a new maid and I am sorry on that part. But I will never regret the time I have spent in your home and believe that you are one of the few people I could count on. Although I was your servant, it would be nice if we were friends, despite how outlandish that may sound. Thank you for all you have done for me.

Sincerely,

Spring

The old woman folded then tucked the note into her bodice. She dismissed the hairy man and he was escorted out. The woman’s eyes looked through her window and her gaze fell on the hill.

“Friends…ha! She truly was a peculiar girl.” 

 

             

 

Author's Note

hey! hello! thank you for reading my story! I just have a few questions for you if you feel like answering. Who do you think Spring is? What do you think Spring is? What do you think her underlying story is? I'm interested in seeing what people get out of it even though it is meant to be vague. I think I'll find your theories very interesting! so if you feel like it, put em up! ^^ <3